billyjepma's reviews
624 reviews

This started off on a high note, and, until the third act, felt like a notable improvement on the Convergence. There was some solid momentum, interesting political angles, and a fun conspiracy angle that I was eating up. But that third act—which is all one prolonged action sequence—is so drawn out that it loses the threads I was interested in. Kang’s writing is good but inconsistent, and the action scenes aren’t the strongest showcase for her talent. There’s very little sense of space to what should’ve been a bombastic climax, and without that frame of reference (both spatially and narratively), it bordered on monotonous more than a finale should. 

It doesn’t help that the resolution is half-finished, presumably to leave some story threads for Path of Vengeance to wrap up. This entire phase of The High Republic has been more miss than hit for me precisely reasons like that. The overarching story is stretched far too thin, and the connective tissue is less a feature here than an obfuscation of what could’ve and probably should’ve been an interesting detour for the era. There’s nothing outright bad in this book or any of its peers, but it doesn’t utilize nearly enough of the potential sitting in its lap. I simply don’t feel like this prequel excursion paid off, and I wish this had been its own thing instead of a diversion from the stories started in Phase 1, which I very much enjoyed and felt far more cohesively told than anything in this follow-up 

But there is fun to have, and seeing more Jedi of the era was ultimately enough to keep me reading (and I’m glad I did, I promise). I wish the characterizations and plotting were more consistent between this book and Convergence, but I do like what Kang does with most of the cast, especially the ones in supporting roles. There are some excellent pairings here that I enjoyed, and, to the finale’s credit, it does deliver some surprising payoffs. 

There’s some solid stuff here—and the event is never better than when it leans into the playful pomp and circumstance—but it suffers from all the classic problems of a comic crossover, which dilutes the collection significantly. Part of the problem is with me, I acknowledge, considering most of the tie-ins here are less about the events of the Gala than they are continuations of the ongoing stories in their respective books. I can’t speak to the quality of those books, but the showings here range from fine to skippable, at best. 

Artwork is pretty stellar across the board, though, and the costuming alone made this something I’m glad I dove into, even if the storytelling in the tie-ins didn’t do much for me. Mileage will vary, but there’s no denying the genius of turning this premise into a proper event. 

I’ve long claimed Christian Wiman to be one of my favorite writers, if not for his incisive poetry, then for his prose, which gave voice to the dizzying emotions I used to feel toward Christianity and its beliefs. Reading this book—and enjoying it very much, despite going through it at an intentional snail’s pace—has made it clear that my emotions about spirituality are very different now than they were when I was a wide-eyed college student. His writing—especially in the memoir sections—is as affecting as ever, and I’m glad Wiman is writing books like this one, even (especially?) if they’re not entirely for me anymore. 

It’s a bit scatterbrained as a collection, and if I hadn’t read both X of Swords and Hellfire Gala alongside it—which wasn’t nearly as difficult as it could’ve been—I might rate this slightly lower, since it essentially lacks a driving sense of momentum. But taken as the backbone of the broader story Hickman and company are creating, this is quite the achievement. It builds off the exciting rebranding of HoX/PoX with more thought and care than I’m used to seeing from a major relaunch. The soul of these stories is familiar, and doesn’t stray too far from what we usually associated with the X-Men, but the trappings around them are bold and big and fascinating to watch unfold. All of the art is good-to-great, as well, and I really appreciate how consistent the style of this era is even when drawn by an ever-growing collection of artists. 

The anthology-adjacent structure works, too, and, even if it does lead to some inconsistent plotting on a broader scale, it gives Hickman time to dig into various characters and ideas in ways I often found very refreshing. Are there a few too many issues that don’t amount to much independently or collectively? I think so, but even the “filler” here—although I loathe that word—is rarely uninteresting. My biggest complaint is probably how rushed the ending feels. After 20 issues (and more, if you include the crossovers), Hickman’s time as the lead ends abruptly. It feels like we’re still in the early stage of this story, and seeing its architect step aside from the driver seat this early is a little disappointing. Admittedly, he had spent several years on the book by the time he got here, so I don’t begrudge the decision, especially considering how definitive an identity he created. I can’t say I expected to find myself this into a mildly convoluted X-Men saga, but I’m glad to be here! I’m eager to see if the next phase of stories keep their hooks in me the way this one did.

I’m surprised by how much I enjoyed this, as dizzying as it can often feel. Marvel’s crossover events rarely hit for me, too, but this one benefits from a few key decisions that set it up for success, instead of making it feel like a half-hearted cash grab. For example, the event is singularly focused on the X-Men lines, and the various writers across those books are all contributing to what is essentially the same, sequential story. Maybe it’s the way this collection is organized, but it seems like there’s only one issue here that doesn’t naturally segue out of and into the next. It gives the broader story a steady, easy to follow momentum, which is essential when the plot itself is as dense and (for me, at least) incomprehensible as this one is. 

Incomprehensible is probably too strong a word, admittedly, but I can’t say I ever felt like I had a firm grasp of the major players, their backstories, and why the threat was as lofty as it felt. To its credit, the stakes do feel lofty, and the mechanics of the plot are simple enough to keep things moving so even when I felt lost amidst the very large cast of characters, I was rarely disinterested. There are areas of the plot that could’ve been tightened up a bit more—the rules of the tournament are intentionally confusing in ways that grew a little tired and repetitive, for example—but it’s still a testament to the organization of the event that it comes off as cohesively as it does. It’s a fun, intense, even violent event comic with big stakes and consistently good-to-great artwork—can’t ask for much more from something like this. 

Man, what a bummer. I quite enjoyed the first story—both because I’m a sucker for an audio drama and because it was genre comfort food—but the sequel barely did anything for me. It’s not even that long of a listen, but I had to force myself back to it because the storytelling was so inert. I like Beacham’s ideas and think he has a really solid grasp of genre, but I also think his imagination isn’t deep or original enough to sustain a trilogy. I get it; the middle of a story is challenging, and I want to be forgiving of how much meandering, idle place-setting this does for what I imagine will be the proper finale. But come on, you gotta give me something! There’s no real character growth, no sense of tension, and even the character deaths that should’ve been notable—because they were cool characters in the last one!—lack any bite because of how nonchalant and borderline disinterested the execution was. 

The production quality remains solid, even if there are some questionable choices made (i.e., for the love of god I do not make me listen to kissing sounds), and the voice cast is decent to actually quite good. Special shoutout to Ralph Ineson, who chews through every line with more gusto and tonal self-awareness than the character deserves. I’ll probably show up for Chapter 3, despite it all, because the “twist” at the end—which was so obvious for so long I was just glad to have it over with, honestly—is cool enough in theory that I want to see if they’ll actually commit to it.

A proper hoot and a half. The writing is solid and somehow finds a great balance between maintaining tangible stakes and not taking itself seriously. Eames has played a lot of D&D because the vibes here are exactly that—chaotic, heartfelt, and bursting with a bravado that’s only sometimes earned but is always entertaining. It didn’t rock my world, and the pacing is too meandering for its own good, despite feeling authentic to the kind of adventure it is. The momentum never stalls, though—things move too fast for that to happen, which is a good thing. But the narrative does suffer slightly since the drama rarely has the time it needs to properly crystallize. But yeah, I had a great time and will pick up the sequel because this is the platonic ideal of a fantasy world. 

Also, I picked this up to fill the Baldur’s Gate 3 hole in my life, and it rose to the occasion! So, if anyone else is feeling similarly, this might help.

I was sure this would be a drab read—if not because I don’t care that much about The Penguin, then because I didn’t love all of King’s characterization of the gangster in his Batman run—but lo and behold, it’s a brutal, violent slow burn that could be setting up something really special and unique. This is a full-blooded gangster tale, with these introductory issues essentially functioning as Penguin’s “let’s get the band back together” moment, which is just as cool/scary as you might expect. 

King doesn’t hold back, either, and I was surprised by how far DC’s editorial let him go with some of the violence. Even the suggestions of violence are just as potent and, not uncommonly, more unnerving than the actual blood that’s shed on the page. Penguin is as cold-hearted as can be here, and King’s writing leans into the hardened criminal vibe in great ways. The artwork brings all of those vibes right to the forefront, too, and gives the comic a dirty, palpable grit that I really loved. There’s not a ton of momentum here—at least on the broader plot King is developing—but the foundations are rock-solid so far. I’m very eager for more. 

This was really, really good in a way that snuck up on me. Each story is good on its own, but when linked together in the collection their shared thematics, anxieties, and ideals evolve into something far richer and toothier. Evans’ writing is excellent; not flashy, but measured and lovely and naturalistic. I wish the endings for the short stories weren’t quite as abrupt as they are, admittedly. However, even that abruptness (mostly) aligns with Evans’ presentation of the motivations and consequences that carve the women in her stories into the people they are. The characters make this the powerhouse it is, too. Evans has an impeccable knack for getting into the weedy, thorny interior lives of her characters, letting (forcing) her readers see why they make the choices they do, why they face the consequences they do, and, often, why the world they live in didn’t give them any choice in the first place.

This is almost a 5-star read for me, and upon reflection, might eventually climb up to it. But the final short story—the titular one—ends on a note I didn’t love. In a series of stories that felt familiar yet intimately unique, this one concludes with a bigger dramatic push that almost felt out of place. I see why Evans ended up with the ending she did, but I wanted and hoped to see her do something different, to take the roadmap of tensions she had laid out for us and show us a different outcome. All of this is undoubtedly a “me problem,” but closing the book with this specific ending left me with a sense of discontent I’m still feeling the following day. Still, this is an excellent, worthwhile read that I will be keeping on my shelf and recommending to others. 

I’m not enthralled yet, but this second story arc gives more depth to the world and characters—although Kaya herself is still a strangely one-dimensional character—and Craig has a lot of fun with the art, which earns this some bonus points. The comic feels like the kind of cartoon you’d watch and love as a kid, even though it was a little old for you, which is something I’m very much vibing with so far. I’m in for the long haul, but I do hope Craig gets into his characters more because, as cool on paper as they are, I’m going to need more from them eventually.